


a penny for your thoughts (and your soul too, if you'll let me)

by orphan_account



Series: love in the dark [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Grim reaper au, M/M, Mentions of Death, donghyuck is a grim reaper, jaemin is a ghost, major character death but make it lighthearted?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23794723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Never in his career has Donghyuck been faced with a situation like this one. They teach you things at reaper school, and Doyoung, as stick-up-the-ass as he is, is a very good teacher. This? As far as Hyuck knows, this isn’t part of his job, and humans shouldn’t be able to call reapers forward unless they’re already dead.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Na Jaemin, Mark Lee/Na Jaemin (Implied)
Series: love in the dark [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734400
Comments: 11
Kudos: 54





	a penny for your thoughts (and your soul too, if you'll let me)

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt , if you will, is “a penny for your soul” haha anyway. wrote this in one sitting 2day hope it is enjoyable

“A penny,” Donghyuck deadpans. “Just a penny.” 

The boy in front of him, Na Jaemin, shrugs. “Yeah? That’s all I need, actually.”

Donghyuck is baffled, to say the least, that this mortal has decided so firmly to sell something such as a _soul_ for a penny. Technically, this isn’t even in Donghyuck’s line of work. He’s a grim reaper: a grim reaper who isn’t sure how the boy in front of him even called him forward. He double checks his guidebook, which he knows won’t provide him any really useful information beyond “Na Jaemin. Born 2000, August 13. Died TBD.”, but skims over the words again, back and forth, hoping they’ll give him a hint or a nudge towards the proper course of action, whatever the fuck that is in an unprecedented situation like this one. 

“I’m a penny short.” Jaemin says, either unaware of Donghyuck’s confusion or choosing to ignore it. “A soda costs $1.50.” He fiddles with the vending machine, tapping on the sides as if to coax a drink out of it by force. 

Donghyuck can only stare at him. Never in his (short, so far) career has he been faced with a situation like this one. They teach you things at reaper school, and Doyoung, as stick-up-the-ass as he is, is a very good teacher. This? Donghyuck does not recall it being taught before, not even as an example problem in Collection and Guidance class. As far as he knows, this isn’t part of his job, and humans shouldn’t be able to call reapers forward unless they’re already dead. 

Jaemin is still tapping on the vending machine — hitting it now, actually — and Donghyuck can barely hear his own thoughts through the sound of the machine’s rattling in front of him. “How badly do you want a soda?” Donghyuck asks, exasperated. “Are you sure you want to sell your entire soul for it?” 

Jaemin snorts. “You want half of it instead? What are you going to do with half of a soul?”

Donghyuck pauses. Point Jaemin. Jaemin smirks back at him, turning away from the vending machine for a bit to look Donghyuck in the eye. His hair is a light pink, almost see through when the fluorescent hallway light hits it just so, and he’s wearing a hoodie that says Class of 2018 on the front. There’s a ring on his finger that he fiddles with, and he definitely looks human — alive — by the rosiness of his cheeks. 

“I’m not, actually,” Jaemin says, sliding the ring off his finger and into his pocket. 

Donghyuck blinks, very confused now. 

“You’re thinking out loud,” Jaemin continues, tilting his head to the side as his hair and skin becomes _definitely_ see through in the dim hallway lighting. “It’s a glamour. I’m not alive, not actually.” 

Donghyuck laughs. Two points to Jaemin. Clever, he has to be, if he’s been able to run from the meticulous soul-collection system that the higher ups have established in order to _specifically_ avoid cases like this. “Okay then, Jaemin. You're not supposed to be here. The rules say so. How did you escape the system?” 

“I will let you know,” Jaemin replies, as he moves on to repeatedly stabbing his finger into the “change” button on the vending machine, “if you tell me how you know my name.” 

This is a fair trade; information for information. Donghyuck shrugs, pulling the book back out of the big inner pocket of his faux leather jacket, and hands it to Jaemin, book already flipped open to his entry. 

“I have a fucking book for it, baby,” Donghyuck grins. His grin grows wider at the sight of Jaemin’s wide-eyed look as he skims the open pages, down to the headshot of him pinned inside. 

As soon as he's finished looking, Jaemin tosses the book back to Donghyuck, the smile on his face revealing how he's obviously a little bit impressed. “Okay,” Donghyuck says back, pocketing the book again. “Your turn.” 

This is definitely one of the weirdest things that has ever happened to Donghyuck, even if you include his lifetime on earth before he became a reaper. It's not every day that you meet a dead kid parading around as if he's alive. it's also not every day that he learns that said dead kid ran from the last reaper who tried to pick him up when he died during his high school graduation trip. 

It was during a bus accident, and his best friend Mark at the time had survived the crash with only a couple of broken limbs. Jaemin wasn’t so lucky, and was hospitalized for a few weeks before dying. It was, according to the storyteller, a “fucking waste of money for my parents, and I feel kind of bad about it, you know? I wish I could have told them that I was just going to die, but then how the hell would I have come back after? That shit _has_ to raise questions.” 

“So, I escaped from the reaper, right?” Jaemin says, grinning and facing Donghyuck. It looks a little funny on his face, not quite a grin, but Donghyuck supposes that might just be because he’s dead and not even supposed to be looked at. The two of them have moved into sitting on the ground next to the vending machine mid-story, and Jaemin’s got his head propped up on the wall behind him, fiddling with the ring that he returned to his hand. 

“Lucky for me, my friend Renjun is a witch.” 

Donghyuck fake-gasps. “No, not a witch,” he says, throwing his hands into the air. 

“Yes,” Jaemin says, pointing at Donghyuck. “Big family of witches; quite well known in China, actually. I bought this glamour from him,” he continues, flexing his fingers out in front of him, showing off the thick ring on his pointer finger, “which would have cost me a lot more if I wasn’t friends with him.” 

He leans his head back against the wall again, and continues the rest of his story. “I wanted to stick around with Mark a little longer, even if it meant getting caught by some higher-power.” Jaemin closes his eyes, and pats the floor next to him. “He died a couple of days ago, in this building. I’ve been hanging around here for a few hours with my ring off, hoping for a reaper to find me or something.” 

Donghyuck’s heart lurches in his chest, and a cloud of melancholy settles around them for half of a moment before Jaemin pushes himself back up onto his feet. 

“And then I got thirsty.” His voice echoes through the empty hallway, “So wishful thinking let me propose a deal when you swung by.” Jaemin shrugs, hands back in his pockets now. “A penny for my soul. Because I'm one cent short from buying myself a drink.” 

“Which won’t actually work,” Donghyuck points out. “No pennies. I can’t take deals like that. I’m a reaper, not a demon. All I know, really, is how to collect and guide.” He pauses. “But I can still buy you a drink if you want.” 

“Nah,” Jaemin shakes his head, denying Donghyuck's offer very quickly for someone who was busying himself with whacking the vending machine earlier. Jaemin shifts his gaze to the ratty sneakers he’s wearing, away from Donghyuck's stare. “I’m good. Not thirsty anymore.” 

An awkward silence fills the space between them, Donghyuck standing still, the hood of his faux-leather jacket still over his head, and Jaemin shifting his weight back and forth between his two feet. 

“You know…” Donghyuck begins. “The glamour you have here is a pretty good one.” He stretches his hand out, a silent ask for the ring on Jaemin’s finger, and Jaemin stares at his outstretched hand for a few beats before giving it to the reaper. Donghyuck examines it, turning it between his pointer and his thumb. “I don’t actually have to send you over if you keep it on.” 

Jaemin stops shifting in his spot, the sound of his feet sliding together making a loud scraping sound. “Isn’t that your job? Mr. …” 

“You can just call me Hyuck. Drop the ‘Mr.’. I wasn’t that much older than you when I died myself, you know.” 

Jaemin grins, real this time. “Okay, Hyuck. Isn’t it your job to send me over?” He tilts his head and his eyes sparkle with a life that do a terrible job at relaying over the message that _technically, this kid is dead._

Donghyuck studies the boy in front of him for a few seconds. Jaemin isn’t supposed to be here, he’s well aware, if how his hair and skin look like a mirage in the artificial lighting is any sort of tell. It’s weird to look him in the eye, because he really isn’t supposed to be looking at him at all, but the notion that this might let him live out the rest of his life itches at the back of his brain, like there’s a reason Donghyuck was the one called here. 

Donghyuck looks down at the ring in his hands. It’s kind of large, kind of bulky, and a little strange looking, a big black stone in the center of the thick silverish band, but it passes for a gift. Antique, or something, he supposes. 

“You’re still young,” he begins slowly, and he can hear the hesitance in his own voice, so he clears his throat to push it down. “I don’t think I’ll get caught or anything when I go back, because you don’t show up as dead in my book.” He pulls the book out of his jacket, handing it back to Jaemin. “See? Your death date is still to be determined.” 

Jaemin scans his own page, eyes pausing over the pictures pinned to the page before he flips past his own page into the earlier registers. 

Donghyuck continues. "I can come back another day, I guess, and collect your soul then. Maybe after you've lived out more of your life," he can feel his words picking up their pace, his waving hands stirring up a black cloud in front of him, but he doesn't stop. "I'll just pen the date in then, you know? Works for you, works for me." 

Jaemin stops flipping through the book, abruptly flipping back a few pages again, which also stops Donghyuck from suggesting the rest of his quickly snowballing master plan, and hands the book back to Donghyuck. His voice is quiet when he speaks again. “You reaped Mark? Mark Lee?” 

Donghyuck takes the book back, page open to a boy named Mark Lee. Born 1999, August 2, Died two days ago. Donghyuck touches the pages gently, scanning through all of the photo memories clipped inside the hand-sized note. 

Jaemin shuffles over so he’s looking over Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Look.” He points at a picture of two boys under a tree, bikes propped up by its side. “That’s me.” 

Donghyuck looks at the picture, studying it. The boy’s eyes are big, sparkling just like how Jaemin’s do, and he looks almost larger than life in this old photograph. It's very obviously him — his smile is huge, filled with warmth, the same way his grin is dazzling still, even though he’s dead. 

Jaemin steps away from the grim reaper, as if to give Donghyuck space. “Thank you,” he says, putting his ring on Donghyuck’s finger, "for collecting him." Jaemin watches as Hyuck’s skin slowly turns from a faded almost-grey into a warm tan. 

“You look like summer, Hyuckie,” Jaemin says after all the colour has returned to his skin and hair. “I like the blonde,” he points out, nodding in approval. 

Donghyuck touches his hair, hand moving slowly to his head, and checks his reflection in the plastic front of the vending machine, because this really is kind of unbelievable. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen himself in full colour, and his tan on his arms hasn’t yet faded since the day he died. 

“If we were alive at the same time, I think we could have been good friends.” The smile on his face is small, and Donghyuck doesn’t miss the softness in his eyes as he fiddles with his hoodie sleeve.

Jaemin clears his throat quickly. “I’d rather not stay alive. I have someone I want to see, and you just collected him.” 

Jaemin smiles at Donghyuck again, directly at him this time, and it looks a little bit like relief, rather than the bright shades of joy he was wearing earlier. “You can keep the ring. Think of it as a thank you, or something. In return, you can take my soul for free. A one cent discount.” 

Donghyuck stares at Jaemin again for what feels like a few minutes. This boy in front of him with the almost-see through pink hair and the shiny eyes, who should be dead but looks like he belongs among the living, with his hands in fists at his sides looks nervous, but the shine in his eyes is one of happiness, not real fear. 

Donghyuck flashes a smile at Jaemin, before taking the ring off and putting it in his pocket.

"Okay. Ready to go?"

"Trust me," Jaemin lets out with a bright laugh, bright like the youth he died in, as he stretches a hand out for Donghyuck's own. 

"I've been ready to go since you denied my trade offer." 

  
  


  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> no beta we die like jaemin
> 
> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/jwloveclub)
> 
> please leave me a kudos or a comment if u liked it i will eternally b thankful :>


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